More than a Pathologist
by Anime-GuardianAngel
Summary: A collection of one-shots(two-shots, three-shots, etc.) all exploring the possibility of Molly Hooper being more than a pathologist. Will range from K to T, from AU to canon compliant, and from serious to pure crack. Various pairings, but expect mostly Sherlolly along with John/Mary. Will include warnings for any darker one-shots.
1. Author

**So this is (hopefully) the start of a series of one-shots in which Molly isn't just a pathologist at Barts. I actually have two ideas currently, one of which would take multiple chapters. This particular one-shot was inspired by the story on here called "The London Detective" by MyShipIsWeird. I gave a little nod to the story as well as the actress that plays Molly in the show.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, just the OC at the end. You may borrow her with permission granted first.**

* * *

_**Author**_

* * *

Boredom had once again struck the (in)famous consulting detective of 221B Baker Street. No cases ranked higher than a 3 had been sent to him. Bothering John was out of the question, since he and Mary were busy with the newest Watson. Mrs. Hudson was out with a gentleman friend of hers, who for once didn't have a too shady past if one overlooked his former occupation as a government agent. If there was a murder, or even an interesting robbery at this point, Lestrade had yet to alert Sherlock about it. To make things worse, Molly was out of the country visiting an old friend from her university days.

A glance around the room told Sherlock what his acceptable options were. He could play the violin(like he did the day before), perform experiments(well this option was questionable at best), or finally get around to reading the books John had gotten him. Well there was a clear winner after all, even if the books did have the cliché covers associated with mystery novels. They were all a part of a series by an author called L. M. Brealey, who was supposedly as mysterious as the books themselves.

With nothing better to do, Sherlock picked up the first book in the series. He reasoned that even if the plot was predictable, then he could use the written works to deduce more about the author. As he read the words printed on each page, deductions about the author as well as the plot flashed through Sherlock's mind. He never noticed the time changing on the clock as his mind wandered into another world.

* * *

John walked up to the flat his best friend lived in. He had gotten a call from Lestrade saying that Sherlock hadn't answered any calls for a few days now. While Sherlock turning down cases that didn't meant his minimum required rank of a 7 in order to leave the flat, the case Lestrade was trying to get the consultant to help with sounded like at least a 7. The sight that met John was a mixture of familiar and confusion for the former army doctor.

Newspapers, magazines, books, and pieces of paper littered the flat. Normal. Various articles and notes pinned to a wall. Normal if Sherlock was on a case, which as far as John knew wasn't the case. The red threads connecting said pieces of paper. Again, normal if on a case. Sherlock looking like he was about to pull his hair out. Not normal, ever.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" John cautiously asked, becoming concerned for his friend. "Greg has been calling you trying to get you on a case."

"Busy," Sherlock replied before groaning in frustration. "Who are you L. M. Brealey?"

"L. M. Brealey?" John repeated. "The author of the mystery series I got you?"

"Authors John," Sherlock corrected. "The writing style changes at different points in each book. One author, definitely a woman, writes the more emotional and dramatic aspects while the other author writes the crime aspects of the books."

"Wait, you mean to tell me you've been trying to figure out who L. M. Brealey is these past few days?" John questioned. A sharp look was the only answer John needed. "Sherlock, only the publishers know for sure who the author is, and even they don't know too much."

"Well they're idiots," Sherlock scoffed. "I've deduced there are two writers using one penname. At least one woman and one American due to the American terminology used. One or both are familiar with what actual crime scenes are like, how autopsies are performed, what evidence a body can give off, and one, if not both, have read our blogs."

"What makes you say that?" John replied, secretly amazed a bestselling author(well authors) read his blog(even more amazing was that they read Sherlock's blog).

"The crimes and the detective John," the consulting detective rolled his eyes. "The crimes are obviously inspired by the ones on your blog. Plus the detective's abilities are superior to his peers and could be on par with mine. Then there is his name, William Scott, it's glaringly obvious he's named after me as well."

"How many people know your full name? Besides that I have to agree with you," John commented. A frown formed on Sherlock's face. The only ones who knew his full name were his parents, Mycroft, John, Mary, possibly Moriarty, and Molly. If light bulbs appeared over peoples' heads in real life, one would have appeared shining over Sherlock's.

"OF COURSE!" he shouted. "It makes perfect sense!"

"You just figured out the identity of the authors in a few days after reading the books while other people have spent months looking and have come up with nothing?" John said. "Of course you did, you're Sherlock Holmes. So who are they anyways?" At this Sherlock smirked at his best friend.

* * *

"A toast to _The London Detective_," Molly exclaimed, clinking a glass of lemonade with Breanne Harley's glass. "For all the success he has brought us."

"Amen to that," Molly's friend replied. "In all seriousness I'm glad you found the time to visit me here in New York. It's been too long since we chatted in person."

"Well it wasn't purely for fun," she admitted.

"Molly Louise Hopper you better come clean right this instance," Breanne mock glared.

"It's about that scene you snuck in, between William Scott and Holly Lee," the pathologist began. "Why did you make them be secretly dating? Plus you changed Holly Lee to be a lot more like, well, me." A mischievous grin graced Breanne's lips as she took a sip of her lemonade.

"Because until you realize how crazy that Sherlock guy has to be about you, that is as close to you two dating I'll get," she answered.

"So you're using our series to fulfill your own fantasies of me being in a relationship with a self-proclaimed sociopath?" Molly gave her friend a deadpanned look.

"Long live Sherlolly," was the only response Breanne gave.


	2. Chess Master

**Okay, this one is going to be one of the shorter one-shots at 673 words(I usually aim for a minimum of 800). Just to let you guys know, I'm letting mile-stone reviews pick what ideas take priority. The first reviewer has done so already via PM(which is how I'll communicate with other mile-stone reviews as well unless they're guests). The idea selected with start next chapter(it's going to be a long one). If I can stop laughing long enough it will hopefully be up before next week.**

**On another note... GUYS THIS STORY ALREADY HAS MORE VIEWS THAN HALF OF MY OTHER STORIES AND IT HASN'T BEEN A WEEK! I'm hopeful it will eventually have the most views out of my stories. Next mile-stone review is review #10, then #25, #50,#75, #100(doubtful it will get past here).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, but the name of an oc is iffy since they never make an appearance.**

* * *

_**Chess Master**_

* * *

"Checkmate."

"..."

"Well Molly I think you just broke him," John spoke up, having been an audience member to the chess match that Molly had just won. Ever since Molly joined a chess tournament that was going on in 221B(the only way Sherlock would entertain the idea of having guests over willingly), no one else had been able to win a match, since Molly kept beating everyone. Everyone including the Holmes she had just handed defeat to. Speaking of said Holmes, he had yet to say anything. "Or sent him into shock to be more accurate. Congratulations on winning the tournament."

"Maybe we should ask Molly to help us solve cases from now on," Lestrade joked, earning amused chuckles from everyone but the three Holmes. Molly merely smiled politely, knowing that just because she won a chess tournament didn't mean she was smarter than everyone. "She won't insult everyone at a crime scene unlike that bloke," he added with a nod towards Sherlock.

"How?" Mycroft finally managed to croak out, clearly still in shock over losing a game of strategy to the pathologist.

"Ah, he finally speaks," Sherlock smirked at his brother. "Did you honestly doubt Molly's abilities Mycroft? I didn't marry an idiot brother dearest."

"Sherlock be nice," Molly lightly scolded. "I'll go check on the biscuits." Mrs. Hudson and Mary left to join Molly in the kitchen, both knowing Molly was retreating for a reason. Anthea, Mycroft's loyal assistant retreated to the spot next to the door, ready to walk out if necessary.

"How in the world did a pathologist beat me at chess?" Mycroft spat out, glaring at Sherlock. "You can't even come close to beating me." Sherlock's smirk merely increased, his eyes giving away his amusement.

"You don't know?" Sherlock mockingly asked. "You're slipping Mycroft."

"Sherlock..." the older Holmes nearly growled. A smirking Sherlock continued to stare at his brother, clearly enjoying knowing more about someone than his brother did for once.

"Oh just put him out of his misery already," Lestrade finally interjected after a few moments of silence. Apparently learning that he was the only one in the dark just made Mycroft's frown deepen.

"Not quite yet," the smirk still present on the younger Holmes' face. "It's not every day the tables are turned like this on my brother. I'd rather savor the moment for a bit longer."

"My uncle taught me everything he knew about chess when I was younger," Molly said, poking her head into the room from the kitchen. "Sherlock didn't find out about my chess abilities until after I beat him the first time as well Mycroft."

"I didn't know you had an uncle," John remarked, remembering what happened last time he laughed at Sherlock losing chess to Molly(John had gone off to help Mrs. Hudson towards the end of the match , thus missing out on the existence of Molly's uncle). It only took one time of nearly eating an ear to teach John why opening laughing at his friend's defeat was a horrible idea.

"You're bloody joking," Mycroft groaned as realization dawned on him. "Your uncle's James Hooper, a world tournament chess champion."

"The guy who left a huge fortune and estate only to his niece?" Lestrade said, switching back and forth from looking at the Holmes brothers to Molly. The man's nephews on his wife's side were fuming mad and kept telling tabloids the niece shouldn't have gotten everything, especially since the estate had been in the wife's family for generations.

"Yep," Molly chirped before retreating back into the kitchen.

"When you think you know a person," John muttered.

"John please," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're best friends with a sociopath, know the British government, are on friendly terms with a detective inspector from the Yard, had a former exotic dancer as a landlady, and married and started a family with a former assassin. Molly being a chess genius and coming from money isn't the strangest thing in your life."

"Wait," Lestrade choked out. "What was that about Mrs. Hudson?"


	3. Sailor Moon?

**OMG! This story is my third most viewed now! Plus it has the most alerts! I LOVE YOU GUYS!**

**Okay, moving on, this idea is going to be at least a three-shot(or two-shot). Inspiration for this story idea came from "Magical Girl Sailor Molly" by 10forever(it's rated M only because of language). Shout out to SammyKatz for selecting this idea and being the first reviewer! I used the Sailor Moon dress up game on DollDivine to create the costumes(pictures are on my Facebook(check profile for link) page along with a link to the game).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock and/or Sailor Moon. If I do, nobody has told me yet(or sent me my share in the profit, which I would like if I own either or both).**

* * *

_**Sailor Moon?**_

* * *

A nine year old Sherlock sat hidden away under the play set at the park. He had run here after hearing about Redbeard. He had no idea how he was going to become the best pirate in the world without his First Mate. Sherlock would rather deal with an idiot who lowered the IQs of whole streets than even think of asking Mycroft to be his First Mate.

"My, such despair," a high pitched wheezy voice hissed. "Such delicious agony. You'll do nicely for a snack." Sherlock quickly turned his head toward the source and was met with something so downright ugly it made Redbeard's "presents" in the yard look pretty. The creature(if such a thing deserved to even be called that) was completely black, except for its eyes, which were a very dark purple that bordered on black. The claws on its hands were half the size of its fingers. Going by the sharp fangs sticking out of its mouth, Sherlock deduced it was a carnivore, plus it had referred to him as a snack.

"Seriously?" a feminine voice called out from somewhere in the trees, surprising both Sherlock and the creature. "Will you ever learn that I'm not gonna let you win?" The speaker jumped down from what could have been somewhere between 15 to 20 feet from the ground.

"Great, it's the brat again," the thing groaned. "Always interrupting my meals." It turned its head toward the girl. "You know for the Elemental Guardian of Life you sure seem set on having me wither away into nothing."

"You feed off of innocent people," the strangely dressed girl defended her actions. "Plus your boss is trying to destroy the world and sentence it to eternal darkness so excuse me if I'm not keen on letting the bad guys win."

Sherlock took a good look at his savior. She appeared to be 18 years old, but some of her mannerisms suggested she was either childish or younger than she looked. Her outfit looked like something one of the main characters from the show all the girls in his grade were obsessed with, Sailor Moon(the hair style was the main thing that seemed to scream Sailor Moon). The outfit consisted of a white leotard, a yellow skirt that possessed a white strip towards the bottom edge, white boots that went up to just below her knees decorated with yellow stripes on top(along with a yellow bow on each stripe in the front), white elbow length gloves with yellow ruffles at the end, a yellow choker with a white heart decoration, a yellow bow in the front with a white heart smack dab in the middle of it, a yellow bow in the back, and a gold tiara with a white gem in it. If the outfit alone wasn't enough to make her look like something out of an anime, her hair, which started as a normal brunette color, turned white towards the end.

"Gah! I don't care what my boss wants anymore!" the creature screamed in frustration. "I'm hungry and that brat smells good!" It lunged toward Sherlock, only to be knocked backwards by the girl's kick to the face. "Ow!"

Thus began the beat down of the creature that thought Sherlock would make a good snack. Sherlock watched as the girl, the Guardian of Life according to the creature, delivered every swift kick and punch. He was amazed as she did a back flip after giving her opponent yet another kick to the face. Her right hand glowed as a white scepter seemed to appear out of nowhere. She pointed it toward the creature, which wobbled a bit due to the head injuries it received.

"Elemental Heart Purification!" she yelled. A ball of white energy formed from the top of the scepter before firing at the creature. It howled in pain before being reduced to ashes that were scattered by a breeze that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"How did you do that?" Sherlock asked, staring at the girl in awe(this was the start of Sherlock's first(and for quite awhile only) crush, no matter how much he denied it later on). "Plus who are you, that thing called you 'the Guardian of Life.'" Her golden yellow eyes turned to look at the boy she had just prevented from becoming a snack.

"Magic?" the girl shrugged. "I know it's not magic but that's the explanation I got. As for who I am, what's the point in a secret identity if I give out my name?"

"So people just call you the Guardian of Life?" Sherlock nearly deadpanned.

"Oh," she smiled. "My teammates call me Heart."

"I'm William," he blurted, blushing slightly. Mentally he yelled at himself for giving out his dreaded first name. It was so boring compared to Sherlock.

"Well William it's been nice to meet you," she smiled once more. "Hopefully we won't meet again, since that would mean there's trouble." Sherlock felt his heart ache at never seeing Heart again.

"But-" he began before they heard someone coming.

"Looks like this is goodbye William," Heart said. She gave Sherlock a quick peck on his forehead before turning around and jumping up into the trees, vanishing out of sight.

"There you are Sherlock!" Mycroft exclaimed. "Mummy's worried sick about you, and rightfully so. Your face is red." It would take until they got home for Mycroft to notice the small smudge of lip gloss on Sherlock's forehead. Sherlock eventually told his brother what had happened, leaving out how he blurted out his real name and the fact he thought Heart was pretty. Mycroft knew anyways.

* * *

_Two years later..._

Sherlock thought he was going to die. Earlier that day he had sworn he'd die of boredom on his class trip to the museum. Now, he realized his cause of death would be from falling off the roof of a building. Just as he shut his eyes, Sherlock felt a change in direction. Someone was holding him and they were going up. Opening his eyes and quickly turning to look at his rescuer, Sherlock knew who it was right away.

"Heart!" he greeted with a grin.

"What am I going to do with you William," she sighed with a teasing smile. "I've lost count of how many times I've had to save you." They landed on the roof of a nearby building, St. Bart's. "I thought you agreed to at least try to stay out of trouble."

"My class was here on a field trip," he defended himself.

"William," she said in a warning tone.

"I just wanted to help," he mumbled.

"There you are Heart!" a voice called out. The four other Elemental Guardians joined them on the roof. "I see our unofficial Guardian is here as well."

"Flames quit teasing him," Aqua scolded her teammate. "It's sweet he wants to help out."

"Guys we have more pressing matters to attend to," Terra ended the potential squabble.

"She's right," Breeze agreed. "What do we do Boss?"

"We use the Last Resort," Heart answered. "Go on ahead to the Eye, I'll meet you there." The four girls nodded and took off. She turned to Sherlock, a sad smile on her face.

"Don't go," he pleaded. "I won't know if you're safe." Slowly Heart reached up and grabbed the heart on her choker. She made a soft grunt when she broke it in half down the middle. Heart took the piece in her hand and lightly pressed it against the inner side of Sherlock's upper arm, about an inch above where his elbow bent. He hissed at the slight burn it gave before it seemed to dissolve into his skin, leaving behind a dark mark that looked just like the piece. The color was the same as normal birth mark.

"So long as the mark remains that dark, I'm alive and the world needs me," Heart began. "If it becomes lighter, it means I'm alive but the world doesn't need me. However, if it vanishes completely," she trailed off.

"It means you died," he finished for her. Heart simply nodded, knowing he didn't want to think about that. She had a soft spot for him, since the first day she saved him. Heart could tell he would become something great someday.

"Goodbye William," she whispered before leaning down and kissing him on the cheek. Not looking back, Heart took off to join the other girls.

"Goodbye Heart," Sherlock said sadly, knowing she hadn't heard.

It was after the mysterious white beam exploding into the sky that Sherlock noticed his mark had become a lighter color. It wasn't until he rejoined his class did Sherlock learn a side effect of the Last Resort. Almost everyone forgot entirely about the Elemental Guardians. He and Mycroft, thanks to a website dedicated to the Elemental Guardians, learned only those who had IQ levels of either exceptionally high or low values were the only people unaffected by the memory wipe. People moved on, some oblivious to the truth while others were burdened with the fact they knew it.

* * *

_Present day..._

Sherlock grimaced as he was brought out of his Mind Palace. A burning sensation was bothering him and ruined his focus. Irritated, he rolled up his left sleeve to see if he could discover the cause. His eyes widened at the cause. The mark he had gotten long ago had turned back to its original dark color.

"She's back," he whispered, excitement in his voice. Sherlock knew that things were going to get interesting with the Elemental Guardians returning.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_

* * *

**Okay, the next chapter won't be the continuation since this one fried my brain a few times. But I will continue this idea, just give my poor brain time to recover. I'm actually almost done with the next chapter, I just want to have the one after that at least half-way done before posting the next one. You know, have a cushion for if I start to get busy and/or procrastinate. Let me know what you thought! And check out the pictures on Facebook, since I won't be describing the outfits because that's what caused my brain to fry in the first place.**


	4. Mother

**Okay, sorry about the wait guys. This is for all the mothers out there, happy Mother's Day! Also it's dedicated to my grandmother who passed away from lung cancer over a month ago.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, just Diana and Artemis, the OCs used this time**

**Warnings: Well there's mention of character death, underage drinking, and drugs. This one does deserve the T rating, even if it's a light T.**

* * *

_**Mother**_

* * *

It had happened when she was seventeen years old. Molly Hooper had been dragged off to a party by some of her friends. The party, however, was a university student party. While Molly had successfully dodged the drugs and obvious alcoholic drinks, someone still managed to spike her drink(most likely a friend trying to help her relax since no one really paid Molly any attention). Molly only knew this because she had woken up with memories of the past night missing. Memories such as to how she woke up in a friend's house wearing clothes that weren't her own. Her friend, Diana(the only person Molly still considered a friend after the party), filled Molly in to the best of her abilities. But about two months later Molly discovered the exact reason why Diana had found her wearing nothing but a sheet. Molly learned that she was pregnant.

Molly's father, brother, and Diana had been her support system. Diana had found ways for Molly to hide her pregnancy until after graduation, which made life a bit easier for her. Thankfully no one else found out about Molly's pregnancy. However, on the day before Molly's daughter was born, Diana had been diagnosed with advanced stage lung cancer. In honor of her friend, Molly named her daughter Artemis Violet Hooper, since Diana had always claimed that the Greek version of the goddess had the better name. Life wasn't easy for Molly after the death of her friend, followed by her brother and father. She and Artemis made the best of things though, including living with a consulting detective.

* * *

Molly focused on getting Sherlock to her apartment, wondering if the same lie she and Artemis told other people would work on him. She had some hope, since he never deduced it from her(or at least never said anything) and Artemis would be at a friend's house for the night. Or so the original plan had been it seemed.

"Artemis?" Molly exclaimed, surprised to see her teenage daughter cleaning her bow and arrows in the living room. "Weren't you going to spend the night at Kelly's?"

"She canceled last minute," Artemis shrugged before noticing Sherlock. "But I'm sure I could crash at Megan's for the night if you want Aunt Molly." Apparently Artemis made the choice for her on whether to lie or not.

"It's not like that," Molly corrected her daughter's train of thought. "And where's Toby? Don't tell me you were shooting at him again."

"I need to practice hitting moving targets!" Artemis protested. "Besides, he kept chewing on my arrows."

"Go to your room," Molly ordered. "I'll talk to you later." Artemis gathered up her belongings before marching off to her room, a displeased scowl on her face at missing out on the drama she knew would follow. Nervously, the pathologist turned back to look at Sherlock. She was surprised to see a shocked expression on his face. "Sherlock? Are you alright?"

"There's always something I miss," he muttered loud enough for Molly to hear. "How did I not observe the signs of you being a sole guardian to a teenage girl?"

"To be fair, no one else has met Artemis or knows about her," Molly said. "Not even Moriarty knew about Artemis."

"You're not her aunt," Sherlock stated. "She looked to left when she addressed you as her aunt. It's been proving that looking to the left is a sign of lying." Molly remained silent, knowing Sherlock would deduce the truth soon enough. "However, the physical resemblances are impossible to deny. The facial structure is similar your own and you both possess the same hair and eye color, not unusual since brown eyes are the dominate gene. Since you only had a brother she's not your sister but still a close relative. Both of your parents were only children, eliminating cousins. However, if she was a cousin there would be no reason to lie. The only explanation as to why she lied would if-" Sherlock cut himself off, surprised by his own discovery, making him realized he didn't miss just one thing, he missed a lot of things concerning the pathologist from St. Bart's that just helped him fake his death.

"Yes Sherlock," Molly confirmed for the consulting detective. "Artemis is my daughter."

"Wow Mum you fooled the great Sherlock Holmes for years," Artemis said, revealing that she had been around the corner long enough to hear the confession.

"Artemis," Molly said in a warning tone.

"But Mum, I wanna hear if he can deduce everything," the fourteen year old girl whined like a much younger child.

"There's a sentimental reason for your name," Sherlock spoke, looking at Artemis. "A friend of your mum's, someone who stuck with her during her pregnancy. Your interest in archery stemmed from the mythology involving your namesake. You lie about your relation to your mum for her sake because you know how judgmental people are even though they don't know the full story. You want her to be happy because you blame yourself for her not having a normal life."

"Artemis," Molly practically whispered, looking at her daughter in surprise.

"Well you're spot on," Artemis sadly grinned. "So I guess you know who my two idols are then?"

"Your mother is one," Sherlock replied as if it was obvious(which to him and anyone who spent the time to get to know Artemis it was). "As for the second, someone connected to mysteries, a detective, judging by the amount of murder mysteries and Nancy Drew books on the book shelf." Molly at this point had recovered from her shock at learning Artemis still felt guilt over the fact Molly didn't have a normal life(even without having a teenage daughter, Molly's life still wouldn't be normal). She silently lead Sherlock to the couch, thankfully he complied as he silently scanned the flat for signs of who the other person Artemis looked up to. Molly knew, after all, she was partly responsible for Artemis hearing about him in the first place. "It's me isn't it?" Sherlock spoke after as soon as he sat down on the couch. "You heard stories from your mother and read John's blog."

"You actually like that my mum's a pathologist," Artemis explained. "The only decent bloke she's liked."

"I thought you liked Sam," Molly frowned, thinking of an ex-boyfriend who got to meet Artemis.

"He kept calling me 'Artie' and was cheating on you with his sister-in-law," she nearly deadpanned. "I didn't miss my target when I shot him in the knee." Sherlock smirked at this, deciding Artemis had potential as a detective after all and that he was okay with Molly being a mother, after all, it only proved there was more to her than being a pathologist.


	5. Assassino

**Woo-hoo! Second most viewed story! Also, the _Sailor Moon? _plot will continue after this one.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock**

**Warnings: character death(close call) and violence**

* * *

_**Assassino**_

* * *

Sherlock Holmes had been captured. He hadn't heard anyone sneak up on him, or felt the needle prick his skin until it was too late. Now, he was stuck sitting somewhere with his hands tied behind his back, his feet chained to the floor(his captor didn't underestimate him it seemed), and a blindfold covered his eyes. Tapping his foot a couple of times to test the echo, Sherlock determined he was in an abandoned warehouse that was empty besides his lovely chair.

The sound of a large door creaking open met his ears. It made a loud noise when it was slammed shut. Whoever had entered had used the noise to cover their footsteps. Sherlock deduced that his visitor was a woman from the clicking noise the high heels made on the concrete floor(well the less likely option was a cross-dresser or drag queen). Her steps were sure and steady, showing she knew what she was doing and was used to walking in high heels. The steps stopped in front of him, about an arm's length.

"Well Signore Holmes," an Italian accent greeted him. "You haven't been an easy man to capture."

"Your English is extraordinary for someone who supposedly grew up in Italy," he replied. "Your accent almost sounds forced."

"This isn't about me Signore," her voice lost its friendliness quickly. "My _principale_ told me to finish you off."

"Did your employer offer you enough money to risk being foiled by the British government?" he asked, trying to place her voice. Her accent sounded like the ones from Sicily, but he could faintly detect another accent underlying it. "Provide enough resources for you get away with it?"

"Enough to know your _innamorta _is as good as dead," the assassin almost purred. Sherlock remained silent, realizing he hadn't been as careful at keeping his relationship with Molly as secret as he should have. It was pointless to try and deny Molly was his "sweetheart", as the woman put it. "There is a gun on her as we speak. No matter what the outcome is here Signore Holmes, she will die."

"Do I at least get a name before I die?" Sherlock asked, already planning not only his escape but trying to figure out how to save Molly. For once, he hoped his theory about his captor proved false.

"Signore, I am the best my employer has," she bragged. "And I am still living because I plan every detail down to the last second. Do not think me a fool who would sell her boss out for nothing."

"But you still have a price," Sherlock noted. "What is it?"

"Simple," she replied. "I will contact the man pointing the gun at your lover, tell him to stand down because we are negotiating a deal. You will also tell your _fratello _to have his men stand down for the same reason. We will then get down to business, deal?"

"Deal," he agreed. Sherlock heard her move, knowing she was suspicious of how easily he was complying. After all, she knew him well enough to know this shouldn't be his reaction.

"Why are you behaving in such a cooperative manner Signore?" she demanded. "You're not the type of man to give in so easily."

"You don't want to kill me," he answered. "You keep stalling when you could have ended me a long time ago. You're not the type to brag to a target, and you want to live because you know who's pointing a gun at your head. Did I miss anything, Molly?" She was silent as she removed the blindfold, allowing Sherlock to see again. He looked at her face to see the upper part was covered by a black mask with screened eye holes. She wore a black body suit with her gloves and heels matching the suit.

"What else gave me away?" she quietly asked, dropping her forced accent.

"Your voice," Sherlock said almost as quietly. "The accent sounded force and I was able to detect your natural one underneath it. Plus I do know what your voice sounds like Molly. Your stalling attempts merely gave me more time to confirm it was you." The two were silent, Sherlock mentally double checking everything he ever deduced about Molly, trying to figure out what he missed, while Molly waited for him to figure everything out, including the sad truth.

"Only one of us can leave here Sherlock," she finally said. "There are men outside ready to kill me if I don't kill you. Even if I try, I'm sure John won't hesitate to fire his gun." She picked up the blindfold and put it back on Sherlock. "Consider this my last act of kindness for you Sherlock."

"Molly-" he was silenced with a kiss on the lips. He never thought their first kiss would be their last.

"Goodbye Sherlock," she managed to choke out. Sherlock knew she was crying, she didn't want things to be like this. "_Io ti amerò per sempre_." He knew both of their hearts were breaking at this point. His shattered when he heard the sounds of gunshot.

The warehouse was filled with the noise of a gunfight raging on outside. Sherlock barely heard the footsteps approaching him. The blindfold was removed, revealing the face of a concerned John Watson.

"Do you have any idea how worried we were?" John began the process of lecturing Sherlock as he moved behind his friend to free his hands. "With you disappearing like that, only to find out you've been captured by some Italian mob who was upset you ruined their drug operation." Sherlock tuned John out to look for Molly, or her body. His eyes widened slightly when he saw an unconscious figure leaning against the wall, out of the way, with a hand stained red.

"John shut up!" he interrupted his friend. "Go tend to the assassin who's losing quite a bit of blood and should be entering shock soon." John, thankfully, listened to Sherlock and walked over to Molly. The shot had missed her head, hitting her on the right side of the chest. From what Sherlock could see, it had missed all of her vital organs. Realizing she wasn't in immediate danger, Sherlock stood up and began on setting himself free from the chains. "You knew it was Molly the whole time," he deduced. "Or rather, Mycroft figured it out and told you."

"He also said to pass on his congratulations," John replied. "Is there something you've neglected to tell me?"

"Besides Molly and I being in a romantic relationship for almost a year? Yes," Sherlock answered.

* * *

Molly thought she knew where she was before she even opened her eyes. She had been shot, so waking up in a hospital bed wasn't too strange, in fact it was a logical conclusion. However, it wasn't a hospital that greeted her when she opened her eyes. Although there was hospital equipment in the room, Molly knew hospitals didn't include luxuriously decorated rooms or beds larger than a twin size.

"Sorry about that," John greeted the now awake Molly. He stood to her left, having just checked her vital signs most likely. "Not shooting you wasn't an option. Mycroft said the men with you would be slower to react if they thought their leader was dead."

"You were right about that," Molly admitted. "So what's the damage?"

"Nothing important was hit," the former army doctor informed her. "That was the hardest shot of my life."

"I'll say," Molly agreed. "It's harder to miss everything than hit something important. That only proves you have a lot of skill." She was silent for a moment before looking down at her hands. "Did you know if I was going to kill him?"

"I know you'd rather sacrifice yourself than kill him," he answered. "Honestly the bloke's amazed he didn't pick up on your godfather being an Italian mafia boss sooner."

"How is he?" Molly asked, looking John in the eye.

"I'm fine Molly," Sherlock answered, revealing he had been in the corner on her right the whole time. "In fact I'd like to talk to you privately." John left the room, knowing what Sherlock was about to do.

"Sherlock-" Molly began before cutting herself off when Sherlock walked towards her and put his hand over hers.

"You were doing what you could with the limited resources you had," he said. "Molly, don't make me think I'm going to lose you again." Molly gave Sherlock a look that clearly told him how much of a hypocrite he was starting to sound like. "I won't let any more time pass with the risk of losing you. Molly Hooper," Sherlock began, taking the hand that wasn't holding hers and grabbing something in his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," Molly gasped. "Oh Sherlock, of course I will." Sherlock leaned down and kissed his fiancée, both of them looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together.


End file.
